


He wants that cookie

by bistiles (alis)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baker Derek, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Cookies, Derek Bakes Cookies, Doggy Style, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food Porn, Knotting, M/M, Rimming, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/pseuds/bistiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes, this is it, c’mon,” Stiles cajoles, feeling himself twitch at the perspective of a good fuck. He shoves the remnants of the cookie on his mouth and rubs himself back, “f’ck me, D’rek.”</p><p>“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t dirty talk me with a mouth full of food.”</p><p>[or that one fic where Derek bakes cookies, Stiles eats said cookies, and everything ends in sex]</p>
            </blockquote>





	He wants that cookie

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originated by this prompt that happened on the Sterek Writers chatroom 
> 
> _"okay imagine the following: derek having his wicked way with stiles, while he's still noming the cookie. and he’s moaning a lot. and then derek stops touching. and stiles is still moaning. and derek goes all “are you enjoying my tongue in your ass or the cookie?” and stiles is all “... both. both, now get back to eating me out while I eat this”_
> 
> It was just too glorious for me not to give it a try!
> 
> By the way, title was based on "Birthday Cake" by Rihanna. Except we have cookies instead of cakes. Oh well.
> 
> **Special thanks to[Jacqui](http://captaintinymite.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing the fic for me!**

If Stiles had a Top Ten Reasons to Date Derek Hale, his baking skills would be right there in the Top 5. Because Derek? The same measure of grumpiness and angst-filling he has, he also has of amazing baking skills.

Okay, so Derek isn’t all that angst-filled anymore, thank God. And sure, he’s still grumpy, but it’s the endearing sort of grumpy, the kind that makes Stiles want to nuzzle Derek’s beard and hug the grumpiness out of him. Still, Derek is one hell of a baker.

So imagine Stiles’ utter delight when he arrives home from a particularly gruesome day at the office and finds Derek in the kitchen. Wearing an apron. Only apron _and_ boxers.

Derek likes wearing as little clothes as possible at home. He always claims he feels too hot, and Stiles believes him – Derek’s skin feels like a furnace all the time. _Werewolves_. And really, it won’t be Stiles to complain about that little habit of his. In fact, Stiles thanks all deities for it, because Derek? He’s just so hot, and it doesn’t matter that Stiles has seen him naked thousands of times in the last four years of relationship; it still makes his pupils blow and his breath speed up in the most delicious way.

He drops his backpack in the entryway and makes a beeline to the kitchen. Sniffing the air, he comes to stop behind Derek and slaps his butt, watching with growing arousal as that perfect butt wiggles at the impact. It doesn’t move all that much; even Derek’s ass is muscled, but still. _Damn_. Derek growls low, and Stiles laughs.

“Hey, Babe.” He starts, kissing Derek’s naked shoulder, while slowly caressing his ass. It isn’t really a sexual gesture – not really. He just likes to have his hands on Derek.

“Don’t call me babe,” Derek says, and Stiles hides his smiles in the junction of Derek’s neck and shoulder.

“Babe.” Stiles says, only for the hell of it. It’s an old banter between them, the way Derek always grumbles about pet names, but always flushes when Stiles whispers them. He sniffs the air again, and nuzzles Derek’s shoulder. “What are you doing, hm? Smells good.”

Derek finishes washing the dishes and turns to face Stiles. He pulls him in by the hip, and Stiles goes with a smile, nesting his hip against Derek’s. They stare at each other for a moment, Stiles lifting his hand to cup Derek’s chin, before leaning in for a kiss. It’s not really chaste, but it isn’t a passion-filled kiss either. It feels like reconnaissance, like relief after hours away from each other.

Derek is the first one to pull back, pecking Stiles on the lips once, twice, before rubbing his cheek against Stiles’ neck. Stiles laughs a little breathless, and caresses his nape, letting Derek scent him to his heart’s content.

“Hey, I missed you too,” Stiles says softly and Derek grunts, before pulling back completely. Stiles smirks at him, “You didn’t say what you’re baking.”

“Cookies. I found a new recipe online and decided to try it.”

Cooing with childish glee, Stiles lets go of Derek and bends to peek at the oven, clicking the light to see its inside. There’s a tray with giant cooks, and his mouth waters at the sight. They look just as good as they smell.

“Oh my god, tell me they are ready.”

This time, it’s Derek that slaps his butt, making Stiles yelp and hit his head against the counter. He straightens up, scowling at Derek, who’s smirking amused.

“Not cool, Der.”

“Don’t call me Der. And they are ready, but they still need to cool off.” Derek says, putting the oven mitts on. Stiles smiles, because they have the form of paws, with little claws and all, and it’s adorable (sure, it says it’s bear claws, but Stiles is fully capable of pretending they are wolf paws).

“No, they don’t, I like scorching cookies.” Stiles counter, opening the oven for Derek and reaching for the tray. Derek slaps his hand away, glaring at him.

“It’s hot; don’t be stupid. You’re going to burn yourself.”

“But cookies!” Stiles whines, making grabby hands at the cookies, and Derek just ignores him, setting the tray on the counter. Heartless wolf.

“If you don’t stop this, you won’t eat any of them.”

Stiles gasps, looking affronted, but contenting himself with going to Derek and hugging him.

“So… While they cool off, what are you going to do to keep me entertained?” Stiles murmurs, tracing the shell of Derek’s ear with his lips. He feels the shiver that goes through Derek, and bites his earlobe in response.

“Who says I have to keep you entertained?” Derek bites back, without any heat. In fact, he snuggles back into Stiles’ arm, tilting his head to the side in a silent request for more. Stiles hums and complies, sucking a hickey in Derek’s neck, before leaning back just enough to watch it disappear in mere seconds.

“You’re the one telling me I have to wait,” Stiles rationalizes, sliding a hand over Derek’s chest, thumbing his nipple to hardness slowly.

Derek huffs, but it sounds more like a sigh than anything.

“I’m trying to save your fingers from being burnt, Stiles.”

“Hmmm, God forbid my fingers get hurt,” Stiles says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Derek rolls his eyes so hard Stiles is sure he just saw the inside of his own head. He laughs and wiggles his fingers in front of Derek. “These skinny guys can do magic, okay. You’re looking out for your best interest, I know.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just leans back and kisses Stiles. It’s long and slow; their tongues slowly exploring already mapped territory. Stiles turns them and rests against the counter. They pull back, content in just staying close to each other for a moment.

“You’re giving me _that_ look,” Derek says.

Stiles laughs in response, because he actually knows exactly what look Derek is talking about. “Am I?”

“Yes, you are. And we’re not doing it on the kitchen.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“In a place where my kitchen is a sacred space. Now shut up.”

“Make me.”

Derek pulls him even closer, rolls his hips against Stiles. They are both starting to get hard, feeling that lazy pleasure curling around them. It’s a good feeling, one that Stiles isn’t exactly in a hurry to make more urgent. He just lets Derek set the pace, smiling softly at him. They kiss again, rhythm never faltering, years of practice behind their actions. They know each other too well by now, and, even when it’s frantic and desperate sex, they still work in sync. It’s one of those things that fill Stiles’ heart with a warm feeling, so warm he kisses Derek deeper, trying to convey his feelings through actions. He knows Derek gets him, because he kisses right back.

“Bedroom or living room?” Stiles asks when they break apart, slightly out of breath. He knows his lips are already swollen, and they both are already half hard, enough to be slightly uncomfortable.

Derek doesn’t answer, just turns and leaves, and Stiles hesitates following for a moment. He hears Derek going up the stairs and looks at the cookie tray, before picking two up. Derek was right, they _are_ hot, but not unbearably so, and Stiles goes up to their bedroom while nibbling one.

The sight of Derek stripping, greets him. Taking off his boxers in one economical move isn’t intended to be sexy, but is anyway. Stiles leans against the door frame, and admires the view, the perfect curvature of Derek’s lower back, how high and firm his ass is.

“I knew that you would steal my cookies,” Derek grumbles, and he sits on the foot of the bed, opening his legs in an invitation Stiles doesn’t even think of passing up.

He steps forwards, slots himself right in the space between his thighs with a content hum. “You know me too well.”

“Are you going to keep eating it or kiss me?”

“Tough choices.” But he does kisses Derek. He knows his mouth tastes like the chocolate in the cookie, knows it by the way Derek seems intent on chasing the taste out of his mouth.

Stiles wraps a hand around Derek’s cock and gives lazy strokes, making him fully hard instead of wanting to make him come. Derek leans on his elbows, spreads his legs further, and Stiles just can’t help himself. He holds the base of Derek’s cock, slips the head in his mouth, sucks on it lightly. Derek groans.

They have preferences in bed: Derek likes to ride Stiles, Stiles likes to be fucked on all fours. Derek is all about being fingered, being able to cum by that alone, while Stiles is an enthusiast for rimming, giving or receiving. Derek loves shower sex, even with it slippery dangers, and Stiles takes great pleasure in doing it all around the house. Stiles likes to suck Derek off, takes great pleasure in giving head. And Derek loves it, loves to watch his cock disappearing between Stiles’ plump lips.

It makes them a match made in heaven, because Stiles is taking his sweet time on Derek’s cock, taking it inside his mouth, before sucking hard and going back up. His hand is still gripping the base, controlling how deep he is taking Derek, his other hand splayed on Derek’s hip, holding him down. It’s good that he does it, because they both know Derek can’t quite stop himself from bucking up when Stiles uses his tongue to press on the slit. He goes a little bit further each time he goes down, until the head of his cock is hitting the back of Stiles’ throat, making them both moan.

Derek props himself up on his elbows to watch Stiles. Stiles likes that Derek likes to watch. So he puts a bit of a show, taking Derek’s cock out of his mouth and licking the fat vein running on the length with the flat of his tongue, before blowing air on it. Derek shudders, feeling deliciously sensitive, almost raw. Stiles smiles at him, before sliding his mouth down and taking one ball into his mouth, sucking it lightly then releasing it and giving the same attention to the other, this time harder.

“Dammit... Stiles, don’t do that.” Derek breaths out, knocking Stiles’ shoulder with his knee.

Stiles just laughs, before pushing Derek’s hip forward and up, exposing him a little bit more. Derek slides down the bed, as Stiles licks the skin right behind his balls, pressing it up with his tongue. He keens, and Stiles feels flushed all over. Watching Derek coming apart spurs Stiles on to make him feel even better. He spreads Derek’s ass with his hands and leans in, rubbing his lips against his hole, before licking it. Derek arches his back on the bed, and Stiles can see his hands gripping the bedsheets with enough strength to strain the fabric.

“Hey, no ripping the sheets, okay?” Stiles mutters, kissing Derek’s inner thigh. Derek raises his head and looks at Stiles. Even as wrecked as he already looks, he can still pull a bitch face with those impressive eyebrows. “I’m serious, we had to buy two new sets last month.”

Derek snorts and lies back down. “We can afford new sheets.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and slowly strokes Derek’s cock, just enough to keep him hard and leaking. “Yeah, but I like this sheet, okay? You don’t need to-”

Derek huffs and knocks Stiles with his leg. “Are you going to discuss this now?”

“Rude.” Stiles complains, squeezing the cock in his hand. Derek grunts in response, and Stiles tries hard not to laugh at him. “Fine then. I’ll stop rimming you if it’s so bad.”

“I never said it was bad.” Derek says defensively, and Stiles gives him a smug smile.

Still, Stiles sulks on principle. He finds the cookie lying on the bed and picks it up, nibbling on it for a moment. There are cookie crumbs all over the sheets, and he knows he’ll never hear the end of it, but he doesn’t particularly care, seeing as the sheets will soon be stained with other stuff anyway.

Derek sits up and rolls his eyes at Stiles eating. “Come up here, then. You’re less likely to rip sheets than I am.”

Stiles shrugs, though he’s fairly excited. He stands up and discards his clothes, leaving the underwear on, before climbing up the bed and positioning himself; all fours, ass up in the air. Derek hums appreciatively, stroking his ass with one hand.

“Admiring the view?” Stiles comments, wiggling his ass. He turns when Derek laughs, smiling back. “I know, I would admire my ass too.”

“You’re so full of yourself, Stiles.” Derek comments, pulling the elastic band of his briefs and releasing it with a snap, making Stiles yelp.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind being full of you, so...” He deadpans. Derek laughs again, and Stiles has to admit that he is one smitten bastard, because Derek’s laughter makes him happy.

On the other hand, Derek’s mouth on his lower back makes him _want_. He moans softly as Derek mouths the skin there, before sucking it. There’ll be a mark there tomorrow, and Stiles mentally snickers at how _that_ surely is the epitome of a tramp stamp: a hickey on his lower back. Derek is gently kneading his ass, while he makes his way down, face flush against Stiles’ ass. He can feel the stubble, and he is sure that he’ll have one hell of a stubble burn once Derek is finished, but Stiles couldn’t care less. Not when Derek is spreading him open, pushing his buttocks apart, so much Stiles can feel Derek’s hot breath against his hole.

“Oh my God, stop staring at it, Derek.” Stiles moans, pushing back, trying to get some friction and going nowhere. Derek has a good hold on his hips, and Stiles grunts in annoyance. “C’mon!”

“Wasn’t it you that said you would admire your own ass.” Derek deadpans, running a finger over the sensitive skin. Stiles swears colorfully and pats the bed in search for the lube. Maybe if he chucks the bottle at Derek’s head, he’ll move.

“Ha ha, very funny, Derek, really you are- Jesus fucking Christ, yes!” Stiles exclaims, because apparently Derek had had enough of just teasing and went straight to sucking Stiles’ hole with such enthusiasm that Stiles can feel his knees becoming water.

There’s a sinful pop sound, and Derek licks over with the flat of his tongue before muttering, “Not Jesus. Just Derek.”

Stiles really tries not to laugh, but it’s hard not to, because it’s ridiculous. Derek has his tongue up Stiles’ ass, and he’s still cracking stupid jokes. They are probably the most unsexy people boning in the history of people boning.

“Your sense of humor is killing me. Just go back to- Oh fuck, yes, exactly that, don’t stop.”

Stiles bites his arms and breathes deep, because Derek is amazing with his mouth and he knows exactly how to make Stiles come apart. Derek pushes in his tongue, while pressuring the rim of Stiles’ hole with a thumb, and the feeling has Stiles reaching for the pillow and holding tight. It feels amazing, the pressure of the thumb over the wet intrusion of his tongue. Stiles is pretty sure he’s making the most embarrassing sounds possible. He doesn’t care.

“Aw, shit Derek, fuck...” He moans, and then he finally finds the damned lube. Stiles pokes Derek with his feet, to gain his attention. “Damn, c’mon, c’mon, spread me open already.”

Derek reaches out, and Stiles passes him the bottle, but he makes no move to actually start fingering Stiles. He just keeps his sweet torture, licking and sucking, fucking Stiles with his tongue, pushing as deep as he can. Stiles knows that if he was to look back, Derek’s chin would be shiny with saliva, his lips would be swollen and red, and imagining it only helps to make Stiles even more hard than he already is.

He accidentally bumps the leftover of the cookies and grabs it. Really, he needs some distraction or he’ll come without being touched, and as fun as that is - and it is really fun - he has high hopes that Derek will fuck him into the mattress. So Stiles grabs the cookie and bites it, not really managing to chew on it, not when he can feel Derek blowing cold air on his hole, making him arch and writhes in response.

“Oh- oh sh-” Stiles mutters, words a bit garbled by the cookie.

Derek makes a disgusted noise. “Are you enjoying my tongue in your ass or the damned cookie, Stiles?”

Stiles pushes his ass back, bumps it against what he’s fairly sure is Derek’s cheek. “Both, now shut up and keep going, okay? I need you fucking me like, last week, for God’s sake.”

“Stop eating while I’m fucking you then, it’s disgusting.”

“Is not.” Stiles wheezes, because Derek is now stroking his cock, hard and unrelenting, and he can’t think. “Also you’re not- Not fucking me. So. There’s that.”

Derek grumbles something, and the next thing Stiles knows is that there’s the cold stickiness of the lube dribbling down his hole and into his balls. The moan he lets out is sinful. Derek doesn’t miss a beat though, he presses two fingers inside, and Stiles can’t help but buck forward, throwing his head back. Derek doesn’t stretch him with his fingers; he fucks him with them, hard and fast, long strokes, in and out, so unrelenting that Stiles has to reach back and hold his wrist so Derek stops. He’s too close to coming, and the way he’s fingering him is making it impossible to hold back.

“Jesus fuck, easy, Derek, _easy_.”

Derek sighs and kisses Stiles’ right buttock. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, shit, no. I was just this close of coming my brains out, okay? And I would like to come on your dick, so take it easy.”

Derek snorts and bites the same place he was previously kissing. “I’m tempted to make you come on my fingers, though.”

“Bad Derek. C’mon, I’m stretched enough. Fill me up, big guy, c’mon. Make me come with your cock alone, hm?”

Apparently, the perspective of making Stiles come with his dick is instead of fingers is more interesting, because it doesn’t take one more moment for Derek to line up, the head of his cock brushing against Stiles, snagging on the rim of his hole as Derek rubs himself shamelessly against Stiles.

“Yes, this is it, c’mon,” Stiles cajoles, feeling himself twitch at the perspective of a good fuck. He shoves the remnants of the cookie on his mouth and rubs himself back, “f’ck me, D’rek.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t dirty talk me with a mouth full of food.”

Stiles swallows and giggles, but his laughter is cut short by Derek pushing himself inside in one continuous motion. Stiles stutters and gags, suddenly barely breathing because he’s still tight and Derek is big. He only breaths again when Derek finally bottoms out, hips flush against his ass.

“Sweet merciful Jesus, give a man some warning next time.” Stiles hisses, still feeling choked up. He feels too full, and while he’s pretty used to Derek’s length and girth, it seems too much.

“Like you don’t love it.” Derek says, rolling his hips to make a point. Stiles’ moan is downright pornographic.

“N-never said otherwise, Dude.” Stiles says and bites his lips, when Derek frowns. He knows exactly what he’s going to say next.

“Don’t call me dude.” They say in unison and Stiles laughs breathlessly. Derek growls low, and Stiles smirks pleased with himself.

“I think it’s time to shut you up.” Derek says and Stiles braces himself against the headboard and spreads his knees for leverage.

As soon as he does, Derek grips his hips with enough force to bruise, then pulls himself back until his cock is almost slipping out and pushes back in with one forceful movement. Stiles grunts and barely has time to take another breath before Derek is pushing in and out again, snapping his hips forward unrelentingly. It’s a brutal pace, so much Stiles actually has to lock his elbows so he doesn’t tip forward. It feels _good,_ too good even, and Stiles catches himself moaning almost continuously, making small noises every time he feels Derek’s cock stretching him wide and rubbing inside him. The sound of skin against skin is filthy. It makes Stiles' cock ache even harder.

“Oh f-fuuuck,” Stiles tries to say when Derek drapes himself over him, forehead resting against his neck.

The change of position shifts the angle in which Derek is fucking him, making the thrusts shorter, but deeper and Stiles can barely hold himself up. His arms give out under him. He goes face first into the mattress, still panting and moaning. Derek pulls himself back up and caresses Stiles back.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, worry obvious in his voice. Stiles snorts.

“Yeah. Just don’t- Oh gosh, do that again - can’t hold myself up anymore.”

There's silence, but then Derek is holding Stiles down one hand splayed on his back and the other gripping his hip. It isn't forceful, but it's enough to keep Stiles in place, so he relaxes a bit, and lets Derek have more control. The next thing that comes out of Derek's mouth make Stiles shiver and tremble like those words alone have the power of make him come.

"Whatever you do, don't touch yourself."

Stiles laughs breathlessly and, still with his face on the mattress. "Oh, bossy." He taunts, pushing his ass back and forth, fucking himself on Derek's dick. He can't move much, but it's enough to make Derek grunt. Even the little movement he has is good, and he keeps it for a few more seconds, before Derek squeezes his hip.

"You did say you wanted to come on my dick." Derek says with was supposed to be attempted humor, but his voice has an edge of desperation. He needs to fuck Stiles just as much as Stiles needs to be fucked. "And you ate my cookies without my permission."

"Have at it, big guy." Stiles laughs, and Derek _finally_ complies _._

When Derek pulls out this time, he does slip out, before driving back in in full force. Stiles hisses and closes his eyes, lets Derek do it again and again, until he's fucking Stiles brutally. His hips are snapping forward in a consistent pace, fast, and deep, and _hard_. Stiles loves it. He loves the feeling of being so full of Derek's cock it feels like he's choking on it; he loves how it stretches him wide. He loves the friction, the fast drag of his dick inside Stiles, and it doesn't take long for him to be dripping precome on the sheets.

Derek is muttering something, praises at Stiles, at how good he feels, how good he's taking his dick. Stiles isn't even sure if he's replying. He isn't in full control of his mouth, not when Derek's hand is slipping his hair and pulling it back, making Stiles arch his neck back and cry in pleasure.

"I need to come- I need to, Derek, Derek, _Derek_." Stiles is babbling, feeling his balls tight with the need for release. He can't even rub himself against the sheets, slightly. The pressure of Derek's cock against his prostate is just not enough, and his knees feel like water, but Derek just keeps fucking him, hands tightening on his hair.

"Not yet." Derek snarls, and Stiles wishes they were face to face. There's a hint of a growl on Derek's voice, and Stiles can picture his eyes glowing electric blue. Just the thought is enough to make Stiles choke with want. He loves to see Derek losing control over his wolf, loves when fangs push forward and his nails length.

Derek keeps pounding into Stiles, but his rhythm is faltering a bit, and Stiles knows it means Derek must be close. Stiles makes an effort to push back at Derek, while he's babbling filthy encouragements, telling Derek just how good he feels when he's fucking him with this much abandon.

It does the trick, because Derek locks in and comes, spilling himself inside Stiles with a long moan. He collapses over Stiles, still buried deep inside, and Stiles gasps when he feels the telltale stretch of a knot opening him even wider. His knees gives out, and Derek grunts over him.

"Oh my God!  _Ohmygod_ , Derek."

"Shhh, it's okay, you can take it, I know you can. Look at you, doing so good on my knot." Derek mutters against his sweaty skin, still half lying over Stiles.

"Jesus motherfucker, oh my- Derek, I can't, oh my God, is it becoming bigger with time?" Stiles is still hard, so hard and Derek's knot is pushing against his prostate, a constant pressure as it grows inside him, and Stiles _can't._

"You're so tight, Jesus..." Derek says and pushes up, careful with their hips locked by the knot. Stiles open his legs a bit and Derek rolls his hips, making the knot rub hard against his prostate and Stiles keens, biting his hand.

For the next few minutes, Stiles stays there, flat against the bed, with Derek moving as much as he can while inside him, making the hard knot stimulate him to the point of being too much. Stiles is pretty sure he's going to die, because his cock is trapped between his body and the sheets, there's wetness from his precome where he's lying. His ass is full of Derek's come, and he can't control himself, not when Derek is telling him how good his ass looks stuffed with Derek's dick, how wrecked he looks.

Stiles finally comes hard when he feels Derek's fingers tracing the rim of his overstretched asshole. He cries and sobs, and Derek pets him through the aftershocks, kissing his shoulder, telling Stiles how much he loves him. Stiles can't help but say he loves Derek back, words falling from his mouth in a tired, stilted stream as he shakes.

Eventually Derek manhandles them both to lie on their sides, pulling Stiles away from the wet spot on the bed, something Stiles is forever grateful for. He is still boneless, fucked out, and he's more than content to lie there, to let Derek nip at any exposed skin his mouth can reach, caressing his body with nothing short of reverence. It takes several minutes for the knot to recede enough so Derek can pull out, but Stiles is already used to it. He's too busy riding his afterglow and Derek’s tender cuddling to care anyway.

Stiles needs to clean himself, and get rid of all the come deep in his ass, but there’s something Stiles first and foremost.

"Can I eat more cookies now?" He asks, voice still a bit slurred with tiredness.

Derek laughs so hard, he rolls off bed.


End file.
